…
After hours of walking deep through woods, dragging the heavy axe beside me, it’s starting to get dark, and I end up at the edge of where I need to be. The steel mill stands worn but functional, its chimneys releasing thin wisps of smoke into the fading sky. Rust streaks its framework, and some metal sheets hang loose, but lights flicker in a few windows, giving a sign that works are inside, along with the occasional clang of metal echoing faintly.
Hundreds of shipping containers are stacked in uneven rows across the lot, their paint chipped and faded, but signs of use are clear—greasy marks on handles and chains coiled nearby. A few forklifts sit idle, dirty but newish.
The rocky shoreline to my right is loud with crashing waves, the low sunset reflecting off the water in streaks of orange. Figures move here and there by the mill, their movements purposeful but quiet, giving the place a guarded, almost secretive atmosphere. It’s not abandoned—it’s a place running on intent.
I did wonder if he was still here, and it seems he is. This place ain’t new to me. My father brought me here once or twice—too many times for a child to see things no child should. But it wasn’t anything new. I’d seen a lot worse by that point. At first glance it might seem just like an ordinary steel mill, still clinging to life with its running machines and faint signs of production. But I know better. This isn’t just a fucking steel mill. It’s a front in this town, a carefully constructed screen hiding the truth of what’s really going on.
This is a hub—a place where people are trafficked. Kids specifically, smuggled in or out, passing through like fucking cargo. They leave the machines running, masking the horrors that unfold when darkness falls. This is just one link in a chain, one stop in a network stretching far beyond this place.
And tonight, I’m here for a fucking reason. I need answers—a location and a date. The man running this shithole has the information I’m looking for, and when I’m done with him, he won’t have a choice but to give it to me.
I drop my backpack onto the ground behind the tree, yanking my sweaty hoodie over my head and tossing it inside, leaving me shirtless. With a steady hand, I pull my black ski mask over my head and reach for my axe, strengthening my hold on the handle. Scanning the area, I count the workers—four, maybe five—scattered around to keep the machines running. And him. The man I came for. He’s inside, no doubt. Waiting patiently for the next load of kids to arrive so he can make a hefty wad of cash.
My eyes harden, a calmness settling over me as I step out from the shadows. The weight of the axe swings at my side, every stride measured and slow as I cross the lot carelessly.
When I reach the metal stairs along the side of the building, I climb swiftly but quietly, the sound of my boots against the steellost in the industrial buzz. At the top, I find the rusted door and my fingers curl around the handle.
As I step onto the upper platform walkway, the scene below stretches out like a mechanical labyrinth. My eyes sweep the area, mentally calculating where everything is placed. Where they could run. Where everything could go wrong or right. A massive molten furnace dominates one corner, the heat strong, even from where I’m standing. Chains hang from overhead steel beams, swaying faintly. The air is thick and harsh, a mix of burning metal and grease.
I glance around the platform, every shadow shifting under the glow of lights. No movement. I step forward cautiously, my boots rattling faintly against the steel walkway. Then, without warning, the door to my right creaks open and a man almost steps through.
My body reacts on instinct and without warning, I turn quickly with my axe high above my head, my grasp strong, and my focus locks onto the unlucky cunt in front of me. His face barely registers shock before the blade slams down with savage force. The nauseating crunch of bone echoes in my ears as the axe cleaves deep into his skull, splitting halfway through his head in one brutal motion.
Hot blood sprays, coating my skin, igniting the darkness I crave inside me as I let out a guttural snarl. I shift my grasp on the handle, teeth gritted, and yank downward with raw, violent strength. The sound is wet and vile—a grotesque symphony of tearing flesh and splintering bone until it’s through the middle of his neck. His skull doesn’t just crack; it parts wide open like a fucking peeled banana, exposing his brain inside.
His body collapses in a lifeless heap as soon as I yank my axe free with a grunt, blood pooling at my feet. I inhale deeply, getting ready for more, when a faint gasp cuts through the buzzof the steel mill. My head snaps to the side eerily, murderous eyes narrowing as I spot another victim standing there, some distance away.
He’s frozen for a split second before panic takes over and he stumbles backward, boots skidding on the platform. He turns and sprints like his life depends on it—because it fucking does.
There’s a crazed axe murderer on the loose and he’s about to end his fucking life.
My gaze calmly follows him, head tilted to the side as he bolts, his target clear: the bright, looming alarm button on the wall and my brow arches.
Just as his arm stretches out, I raise my axe high above my head, blood dripping from its steel edge and streaking down my arms. I swing it back, then hurl it forward with every ounce of my strength and the weapon spins, slicing through the air with a deadly accuracy. The crack is deafening when it strikes, smashing into his back with a repulsive thump. His spine crumples inward under the power, and the impact sends him flying across the platform like a fucking rag doll.
I stride toward him as a malicious smirk stretches across my lips.Well, this is fucking fun.
I take out one or two more, their screams fading as quickly as they began. The adrenaline courses through me, sharpening my focus, and that’s when I finally see him.
He steps out of a room across the platform, oblivious to the carnage I’ve created, a pair of heavy-duty headphones clamped over his ears. He’s humming to himself, bobbing his head slightly, the fool completely unaware of the blood-soaked nightmare surrounding him. My lips curl into a cruel grin as I grip my axe tighter, my fingers sticky with gore as I move toward him.
But as I close the distance, something shifts in the air—he senses it. A sudden primal instinct kicks in, and the motherfuck glances back over his shoulder. His face twists into a mask of terror as his eyes land on me, drenched from head to toe in crimson before he suddenly runs.
I don’t even think; my body reacts on autopilot. Impulse takes over, and I dash after him, my boots thundering against the platform as I close the gap.
He’s fast, desperate, but not fast enough.
As soon as I’m within striking distance, I shift my aim and swing the axe low, slicing cleanly across his Achilles tendon.
The blade bites deep, tearing through it like butter and he lets out a blood-curdling scream. It sends him crashing forward, sprawling onto his stomach before he skids across the blood-slicked metal, leaving a trail of red in his wake.
I slow my pace, enjoying the moment, watching as he writhes and claws at the ground, trying to pull himself forward like a wounded creature.
“Time and date of the next sacrifice, cunt. That’s all I want,” I rasp, my voice hoarse, my lungs heavy and suffocating in this hot atmosphere.
His body jerks, and with a sudden movement, he flips onto his back. A glint catches my eye — something in his trembling hand. When I realize it’s a gun, my reflexes take over again and I swing the axe, severing his hand at the wrist. His scream spikes higher, more animal than human, but I barely register it.